This (I suspect) must have been an intriguing book of the page-turning type. Plot-heavy, you could always go back and re-read the bits you hadn't taken in from the start. As a film, however, it lacks drama, and I think it must be because the writer was just not fully aware how visual entertainment works, either on the screen or on the stage. There is a lack of emotional engagement from and between every single character: each one merely seems to be reading his lines from the book. These are good actors, so it's not so obvious, but the whole thing is like a jigsaw puzzle none of whose pieces quite fit. Moreover, the actors all seem to know this: I suppose it's the director's fault, as well as the writer's. None of these thespians seem at home. G.C.Scott is dead serious, but he convinces neither as a father nor as a lover: these are not roles he's comfortable with. Gielgud's appearance, and performance, is startlingly out-of-place. Brando looks as if he's on a frolic of his own, in an ill-fitting suit, pug nose, lip-padding, and the kind of haircut that always worries you whenever you see one. No. It's kind of interesting, but I couldn't call it good. The Jefferson quote was impressive.